


i'll spend forever (wondering if you knew)

by forbiddenquill



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: A fic based on 'Landline' by Rainbow Rowell, F/F, spoilers up to 7x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenquill/pseuds/forbiddenquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alison,” Emily said clearly, no hesitation or uncertainty in her tone, “No matter what you say or do, I know that you love me. Just don’t forget that I love you too.”</p><p>“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” Alison pointed out, realized that she was crying and tried to sniff away her tears, “but what happens when the time comes where you realize that you don’t love me anymore?”</p><p>(or: Emily and Alison talk on the phone about things that should've been said a long time ago.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll spend forever (wondering if you knew)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Enchanted' by Taylor Swift, though I did listen to Owl City's version of it instead. 
> 
> Also, I read 'Landline' by Rainbow Rowell a week ago and it was such a heartwarming story that I decided to write an Emison AU based on it. Basically, the original story goes like this: girl and boy are married, have an argument that leads to boy leaving to another state and girl tries to contact him through phone but ends up reaching the boy's past self, the boy she first fell in love with fifteen years ago. I won't spoil the ending for you but by God, it was such an amazing read. Read it, if you have the time. 
> 
> I thought that since the show handles Emison like crap, I'd add a bit of a magic to it. Emily and Alison have a lot to talk about and even though they're going to spend years talking about it, I wanted to write scenes with their respective responses and reactions. This was the result. 
> 
> Quick overview: Emily and Alison are married with an eight-year-old daughter named Estella Hope DiLaurentis-Fields, with the middle name being inspired by Ico123's Emison fic called, "sugar's sweet, and so is she." You guys should check that out too!  
> Hope you enjoy the read!

* * *

 

 

 _“I think I can live without you, but it won't be any kind of life.”_  
― Rainbow Rowell, Landline  

 

* * *

 

 

**[May 8, 2027; 3:01 AM]**

Alison was quick to catch up on the idea that the Emily who had picked up the phone was not the Emily she had fought with just two hours ago. Or married, for that matter. For one, Emily’s voice was softer in general but slightly on edge, with a noticeable clipped tone at the end of her sentences. It reminded Alison of the short time after Charlotte was locked up and her ex-husband Elliot Rollins and Mary Drake were arrested five years later, when Emily still couldn’t look or pick up her phone without feeling as if a masked killer was on the other end, framing her friends for a murder that their hands did not commit.

Second, Emily had said, “Hello, Alison” like she had before she kissed Alison three months after Rollins’s arrest and they started dating tentatively afterwards. Emily’s _Hello Alison_ tone was full of apprehension, fear and awe. Like she was tiptoeing around a fire that could spit out embers of flames and burning coals. Like she was speaking to fourteen-year-old Alison DiLaurentis who ruled the hallways of Rosewood High like a scorned queen, instead of the twenty-four-year-old Alison Rollins (the divorce hadn’t yet been finalized) who taught in those same hallways.

Third, when Alison’s first question was Estella’s whereabouts, Emily’s tone was full of confusion. “ _Estella_? Like in the book _Great Expectations_ Estella?”

Fourth, after Alison decided not to pry more about Estella (she still needed to gather information about where Emily was staying after their argument), she asked her wife where she was as of the moment and Emily, with a tone that was increasingly getting confused, answered, “California.”

Alison didn’t need a fifth reason to feel as if her life had suddenly gone out on loop. Her wife—Emily Fields—was using the same suspicious voice she had after her life was shattered because of Charlotte and Rollins, the two people Alison had held the dearest, was cautious of Alison calling for her, had no idea who their daughter was (the eight-year-old daughter Emily had named herself) and was currently in California.

Emily hated being pranked on, just as much as she hated pranking someone else. There was just something about being tormented for years by an unknown figure that changed that sort of humor. Alison understood the sentiment perfectly.

And this—Emily having no idea who their daughter was and treating Alison like a stranger—this didn’t feel like a joke. Alison’s eyes were sore from crying for nearly an hour and Emily knew the pain she had caused, and would never do anything as childish as pranking her wife after an argument. This fight had been bigger than the other fights, with Emily bringing up plenty of other factors from past years and Alison screaming until she was pretty sure the neighbors could hear them. Then, Alison had said something so damning—so _fucking_ messed up—that she wished she could take back but the damage had been done, the coffin sealed. Emily’s eyes had widened with tears and before they both knew it, Emily was taking Estella out the door and into the dead of night.

Alison had been too stunned to move. Emily hadn’t said a word to her, hadn’t even called, and hadn’t even told her where she was going. Radio silence. Then Alison had broken down, cried for an hour and finally, after realizing that it was three in the morning, called Emily’s cell number.

This wasn’t Emily, though. This wasn’t her at all.

“Em?” Alison asked, rubbing at some stray tears as she pulled a blanket around her shoulders. She was sitting at the couch, facing the window and praying for a sign that her wife and daughter would come back.

“Yeah, Ali?” Not Emily said, her tone cautious.

“What date is it today?”

“Uh—that’s a weird question.” There came a throaty laugh, one that made Alison smile. Not Emily didn’t speak for a few short seconds before saying, “It’s May 8th, 2017. Why do you ask?”

Alison squeezed her eyes shut, unable to believe the situation she was in. 2017 was ten years ago and May was three months after Rollins had been locked away for good. She didn’t have the perfect memory but it was also the time of the year where she and Emily had finally stopped screwing around and met in the middle, unable to deny their growing feelings.

“It’s nothing,” Alison whispered, looking around and catching sight of a framed picture of her family on Estella’s 2nd birthday. It had been photographed at the Hastings property, when all of their friends had stopped by for the celebration. Estella was in the middle of it all, with her curly blonde hair and warm, brown eyes, smiling up at her two moms while Aria, Spencer and Hanna posed in the background.

“Is there something you needed?” 2017 Emily asked, her tone taking a dark turn as she asked, “Is it about Rollins?”

“No, no, no,” Alison quickly denied, finding it odd to hear Emily’s voice asking her about Rollins. She hadn’t thought about him in years. “I—” she stopped and realized that she had no idea what to say.

“What is it, Ali?” Emily urged, sounding thoughtfully concerned.

Alison looked at the framed picture again and reached for it. It had been two hours already and she was aching for her family back. She ached to see Emily in person, to touch Estella’s chubby cheeks, to kiss them both in the face and tell them that she was so, so sorry.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There was silence on the other end. Alison closed her eyes and wondered if she had screwed everything up. Surely, 2017 Emily would think she was losing her mind again. Back in 2017, Alison hadn’t been in the best state of mind, after being released from Welby. Alison Rollins was a fucking mess. It was a wonder she and Emily got together at all.

“What are you saying sorry for, Ali?” Emily asked and her voice was hushed, as if she was holding the phone close to her mouth.

Alison ached to feel her mouth against her own.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say yet.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“What time is it there in California?”

Emily hummed, presumably glancing at her phone to check the time. “It’s 12:13 AM,” she answered.

“Did I wake you?” Alison felt like they were dating for the first time all over again, when she had been too afraid to call her girlfriend in the middle of the night just to hear her voice.

Emily sounded like she was smiling. “No, Ali,” she said, “you didn’t wake me.” There was a shuffling noise on the other end. Alison wondered if the other girl was sitting in her dorm room, her bed filled with books about medical analogies and terms about the human anatomy that Alison probably couldn’t understand.

“That’s good,” Alison whispered, hugging the picture frame close to her heart and imagining that Emily was sitting next to her, smiling at her wife even though they had been together for a decade.

“But I am curious to why you’re calling,” Emily said, her voice closer now, as if she was pressing the mouth of her phone close to her lips, “since it’s like 3 AM there, right? How are things?”

Alison knew that this had to be some sort of delusion, because there was no way she was speaking to an Emily Fields from ten years ago. The _real_ Emily Fields was probably in her mother’s house with their eight-year-old daughter Estella, or in Texas or even France—all that mattered to Alison was that Emily wasn’t here and Alison feared that she was losing her mind again.

“Things are okay,” she told Emily—or another version of her. She tried to recall what happened exactly in 2017, but was left with a blur of Rollins drugging her in Welby and of Emily’s voice soothing her throught it all. “Uhm, I’m still teaching at Rosewood High.” That, at least, is still the truth.

“I know,” Emily stated and there was more shuffling. Alison imagined her stretching her long limbs or moving her papers out of the way. It was such a strange thing to think of her as the Emily that already happened, the Emily that did all of those things ten years ago. “You couldn’t bear to leave your job,” Emily continued, “and you asked me to stay with you but I—I didn’t.”

There was a short, tense silence. Alison let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. Oh right. This was the time before they started dating—the time where the two of them were wallowing in guilt, shame and loneliness. Emily was in California, Alison in Rosewood. Emily was rebuilding her life, Alison just had hers shattered.

Alison tried to think of how she was ten years ago again. This time, a memory of her grading papers in her classroom and crying over a picture of Emily came to mind. That happened a lot, when the sadness and pain became utterly too much and she couldn’t bear to keep it all in.

She wondered how Emily had been during those years.

“It’s okay,” she told her—what was Emily to her? Future wife? Past girlfriend? She settled for friend, because that was what Emily was to her in May 8, 2017. “I—I’m over it, really, and I totally understand your choice.”

“Well, _I_ don’t,” Emily said suddenly and she sucked in a deep breath, like she hadn’t meant to say that at all.

Alison paused, weighing her next words in carefully. “What do you mean?”

The silence that followed was filled with such dread that Alison, even ten years from Emily saying those words, flinched at the words. Alison adjusted the phone next to her ear, looked back down at the picture frame and smiled as she stared at Estella’s features.

Estella was her joy and wonder. They’d used Emily’s eggs, had a donation from a guy who looked exactly like Alison, and planted the eggs in Alison’s uterus. Estella had been named after Estella Havisham in _Great Expectations_ and was sometimes called Ella. Alison had been adamant about the nickname, because it was Aria’s mom, but Emily had smiled, kissed her and said that Ella Montgomery did the world a miracle by giving birth to Aria. Ali hadn’t been able to disagree.

“I should’ve stayed.” Emily’s voice brought her back from her thoughts. She sounded weary and sad, like these are the exact same words she’d been repeating to herself for the past three months, or ten years in Alison’s case. “I should’ve stayed with you, Alison. It—God, I just—I hated the idea of leaving you behind after what happened with your husband—”

“Ex-husband,” Alison mumbled without thinking.

“Oh? The divorce papers were finalized already?” 

Alison bit back a groan as she mentally smacked herself. “Sorry,” she said, “Habit. I’ve been telling myself to think of him as my ex-husband.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily whispered.

“Please.” Alison put down the picture frame and hugged her knees. They were talking for quite a while now and she was completely content with it. She didn’t care if this was a delusion or a dream or some fantasy. She needed to hear Emily’s voice, even if this wasn’t the Emily she married, even if this wasn’t the Emily who loved her back after all those years. “You have to finish college, otherwise your eggs would’ve been a waste,” she said, thinking about Estella and how much of a non-waste she was not.

Emily laughed quietly. “I’d be lucky to graduate by next year,” she muttered.

“People graduate a lot longer than that,” Alison told her.

“I could’ve finished college at Hollis,” Emily urged and Alison wondered if she had thought about this for some time now, “I could’ve stayed in the weekdays and come visit you on the weekends. I could’ve helped you forget about that jackass of a husband who tortured you and God—” A sob broke out on the other end and Alison’s heart broke into a million pieces, “ _I’m so sorry, Alison_.”

There were tears stinging the back of her eyes and her heart felt twisted. It was stupid, really. This conversation happened ten years ago for her. Alison was over Rollins ten years ago. Emily chased her down and kissed her ten years ago. They got married eight years ago. They had Estella eight years ago. Elliot Rollins didn’t matter, not now, not ten years from now and certainly not ten years ago.

“Emily, it’s okay, seriously,” Alison whispered, choking up.

“We just never really talked about this.” It was true. Even after Emily came back and kissed her, they never fully talked about Rollins or everything that had happened between them.

“Okay,” Alison said, wiping away at her eyes. Her wrist hurt from holding her phone up for so long. “Then we talk.”

“At three in the morning?”

“I just need to hear your voice, Em.”

There was a sharp intake of breath and Alison closed her eyes, realized how she must’ve sounded (especially when in May 8th, 2017, she and Emily weren’t even dating yet) and started to apologize, “I’m sorry; that was out of line—”

“It wasn’t,” Emily affirmed, her tone growing softer. It was as if with each second that passed, her guard just kept coming down.

Alison opened her eyes again and let out a shaky laugh. “Whatever you say,” she whispered, playing with a loose thread on her sweater. “Come to think of it, are you studying right now?”

“I am,” Emily answered, “but I can hold it off—”

“No, Em,” Alison began, feeling bad for disturbing the brunette when she was clearly studying, “I should call back another time then.” Her heart sank. Even though this was Emily from ten years ago, the same Emily with the rough edges and the gentle soul, she still couldn’t bear the thought of hanging up and possibly not talking to her again. Especially when the present Emily wasn’t nowhere to be found.

“Alison,” Emily firmly said, her tone disapproving, “I need to hear your voice too.”

“Tell me about your day,” Alison murmured, smiling to herself.

Emily did. She talked about how she woke up with a horrible hangover from a party last night, what she ate for breakfast, how many laps she took around the block, her classes and professors, and how this girl kept giving her number even though Emily wasn’t interested.

“Why weren’t you interested?” Alison cut in.

“It didn’t feel right,” Emily simply stated.

Then Emily started talking about how she went home to an empty room, because her roommate had gone on a date, and how she made dinner in the microwave and started studying in bed with some coffee to keep her company. “And then you called,” Emily continued, her voice getting further away from the phone, “and now we’re here.”

“And now we’re here,” Alison repeated.

“Well, technically, we’re not,” Emily corrected, “because you’re in Rosewood and I’m here.”

Alison could really guess where this conversation was headed again. “Emily, I told you, I don’t hold it against you that you decided to leave. It was for the best.”

“You’ve been alone for three months, Ali,” Emily pointed out kindly.

Alison let out a huff, quickly checking the time on the phone. Half an hour had already passed. It was nearing four now. “I had Aria and Spencer,” murmured Alison, remembering that it had been Emily and Hanna who took off in a plane the minute Rollins was arrested.

“ _Had_?” Emily asked, her tone rising. “Where did they—?”

 _Shit_. “Have,” Alison corrected, forgetting that her head was supposed to be in 2017 and not in 2027. Some part of her wanted to tell Emily that they ended up together, that Emily asked her to be her wife after two of dating and that Alison carried their baby using her eggs and that they lived a life in Rosewood, even though Emily hated it there. That was a huge factor to their argument earlier that night, when Emily brought it up.

A realization slapped her across the face. If she told 2017 Emily about the past ten years, would it change the future? Would this conversation change the very timeline of their relationship? If Ali asked Emily to leave her now, to never come back to Rosewood, would Estella still exist? If she messed her next words up, would Emily ever think of coming back and loving her all over again?

She nearly dropped her phone because her hand was shaking so much. _Oh God_ , she thought to herself, _I’ve been talking to her for nearly an hour now. What if I’ve already changed everything_?

Picking the picture frame back, Alison stared hard at her daughter’s face. Still there. She still existed.

“Ali?” Emily called on the phone.

“I’m here.”

“I thought I lost you there for a second.”

Alison felt a clog in her throat, thinking about the fight. “You won’t,” she weakly replied.

There was another short, tense silence. Alison could hear Emily moving about, presumably standing from her bed and walking around the room. She could also hear a television in the background and some voices, like there was a party going on across the hall. Emily took a long time to speak up and Alison used the time to stare at Estella’s features, admiring the beautiful blonde hair and the warmth in her eyes.

“Are you lonely?” Emily asked some time later.

Alison was about to say, _“I’m not_ ” but realized that it would be a lie. She had sworn to Emily, on their wedding day, to never lie to her again. Lies were something that Emily could never forgive her for.

“Yes,” she whispered instead, aching for the feel of her wife’s body pressed against hers.

2017 Emily responded, “I am too.” There was sadness written all over that tone and Alison had half the mind to pick up her car keys and travel all the way to California, even though the present Emily probably wasn’t in California. She felt like she was chasing a ghost somehow, the mirage of an Emily Fields who had no idea if she loved her just yet.

“I hear California’s a great place to meet new people,” Alison said lightly, wishing that she had gone there with Emily in the first place.

There was a throaty exhale on the other end. “I’m not looking for new people, Ali,” she said, “I’ve already met the people I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

The certainty in her tone made Alison fall in love with her all over again.

“Am I one of those people?” she asked, because she had to be sure. She had to be sure that Emily wanted her around ten years ago.

“God, yes.” It didn’t even take her a second and Alison sighed in relief, her shoulders sagging as she leaned back on the couch. She hugged the picture frame again, one eye on the driveway.

“Do you mean that?” Alison whispered.

“More than anything,” Emily answered and then her voice got frustrated again, “which is why I’m such an idiot for leaving you after everything that’s happened. I should’ve stayed, Ali. I’m so sorry.”

A little annoyed by the apology that was due ten years ago, Alison said, her voice sharp, “If you’re sorry about leaving me now then I should be sorry for pretending to be dead years ago.”

“That was different,” Emily argued, getting even more frustrated, “You had no choice.”

The two years in hiding had been the hardest in Ali’s life. She still had nightmares about being buried alive in the ground, unable to breathe, unable to scream for help, unable to hold onto something that _wasn’t_ dirt. Emily had always been there to comfort her during those nights, when she woke up choking on something that was no longer stuck in her throat.

“I had a choice when I tormented you for being who you were, Em,” Alison retorted, past feelings and regrets rising to the surface like an unstoppable tsunami, “I had a choice when I dragged you into the whole –A mess. I had a choice when I gave you no reason to trust me after I came back. I had a choice when I begged you to lie for Charlotte. I had a choice for everything that’s happened and I always chose _wrong_.” She let out a shaky breath. “Don’t tell me I had no choice, Emily, because I did.”

Emily was quiet for a long time. When she spoke, she sounded like she was standing in an open area, because Alison could hear the wind whistling and some cars honking in the streets. “We were kids,” she said, “None of that was your fault.”

“I had a choice when I married him, Emily,” Alison added quietly. She was so caught up with the conversation that she didn’t realize she was practically giving Emily all the reasons to why they shouldn’t be together.

Still—she felt the need to tell her every little thing that had been bothering her for ten years now. Maybe ten years ago, Emily would forgive her.

“You had no idea what he was,” Emily aggressively responded.

“But I still chose him,” Alison murmured, the guilt crushing her heart.

Three months after Rollins’s arrest, on May 10th, 2017 (nearly ten years ago), Alison had been grading papers in her classroom when Emily suddenly arrived, looking as if she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. Her hair had been a mess, her eyes bloodshot, her clothes unkempt but she had looked at Ali like she had discovered the whole universe. And when Ali stood up, Emily had walked over and kissed her soundly. May 10 was the date they had their chance and Ali was relieved to find out she still remembered.

“Would you chose him again, if given the chance?” 2017 Emily asked in her ear.

“If I were given the chance to do things differently,” Alison began, her voice heavy, “then I would’ve chosen you a long time ago.”

“Then why didn’t you?” There was a need in that question.

“I was afraid of getting what I wanted,” Alison confessed, “and what it meant once I had it.”

Silence again. Alison stood up from the couch, put the picture frame back in its place and went outside. The cool air enveloped her like a blanket and she sat down on the porch, staring out the driveway and into the night beyond.

“Did you regret it?” Emily asked suddenly, her voice uncertain.

“Regret what?”

“Our night together.” She was clearly referring to the first time they slept together, when Alison was a nervous wreck and Emily kept asking her if she was okay.

Alison bit her lower lip, trying to tell herself that this was some delusion, that her answers didn’t mean anything because she was going to wake up any second now, that whatever she said next didn’t have to affect anything in the future, especially Estella’s existence.

She told the truth now, “Never” because she couldn’t risk it.

There was a pause. “Then it’s my fault,” Emily told Alison, “that we never got our chance. I—I was scared of you hurting me again that I told myself that I was better off without you, that maybe there was a bigger part of me that hated you.”

There was no mistaking it. “You did,” Alison gently whispered, “I know that you did.”

“No,” Emily firmly replied, “That’s the thing, Ali. Even when I thought I hated you, I never did.”

The simplest confessions paved the way to such an emotional turmoil in Alison’s heart. She wanted to fling her phone into the ground and leave for California. She wanted to find 2017 Emily Fields and kiss her senseless, because she wanted another chance to cash in on those missed opportunities and failed chances. But that would’ve meant losing Estella.

“You have every right to hate me, though,” Emily continued, sounding tearful, “I turned on you, I put you in _jail_ for Christ’s sake and I didn’t support you when I found out it was your sister—and I never forgave Charlotte—”

“I never asked you to forgive her,” Alison cut in and with each word that came out of their mouths, she felt as if a new layer had been peeled away, a torn page from the past carefully mended for the betterment of the future.

“She was your sister,” whispered Emily, “Or cousin.”

“She was family, yes,” Alison agreed, “but you’re my wi—” She caught herself just in time, realizing that she didn’t need the past Emily to ask questions. Smacking herself once more, she shook her head, inhaled a deep breath and went on carefully, “You are also my family.”

“That can’t be enough to forgive me,” Emily argued.

 _God, this woman is stubborn_ , Alison thought, exhaling a short laugh and smiling to herself.

“It is,” Alison said, “because you always forgive the people you love.”

Emily was quiet for a long time but Alison could hear her breathing. Back then when they started dating, whenever she couldn’t sleep and always woke up to an empty bed, she always called Emily to hear her voice. There was just something about hearing her breathe that made Alison realize that she wasn’t alone.

“Do you—” Emily took another breath and her voice was softer, as if she was choosing her words carefully. Alison imagined her sitting next to her on that porch, brown eyes wide and loving and full of unabashed affections. “Did you love me?” she asked on the phone.

A second hadn’t even passed before Alison said, “Yes, I love you.”

There was another sharp intake of breath, like Emily couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —believed it. Alison couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d already told so many lies that it’d take years to untangle the web she hadn’t gotten herself in. That was another factor in their fight earlier, Emily screaming that she couldn’t believe that she trusted her in the first place.

But this phone call—it felt like a second chance. Alison felt as if she could start anew, could tell Emily of her feelings without fear of rejection, because Emily never rejected her in the first place. She held the phone tightly with one hand, a childish longing to hear the other girl’s response.

“Ali, I—” Emily sounded absolutely thunderstruck.

“I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you,” Alison confessed, because it was nothing but the truth. They had seen each other in class one day, Emily chatting with a few girl in a row and smiling with her dimples out. At first, Alison had thought that the warmth that rose in her chest was because of her desire to have that girl as a friend, but instead, as the years passed by, it had been something different, deeper. “And I’ve loved you in all the moments in between,” she continued, definitely on a row, “and I loved you more when I was gone and when you left and when you came back and when you left again. Damn it, Emily, I _love_ you. So much.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Emily asked, her voice hoarse.

“Because I told you,” Alison stressed, running her fingers through her hair, “I was afraid of getting what I wanted and that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“You are honestly the stupidest person ever if you think I don’t feel the same way,” Emily retorted. 

Alison smiled to herself, shaking her head. Of course she knew that Emily loved her back. They had eight years of married life. There were some up and downs but the good times outweighed the bad. Alison wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Do you feel the same way?” Alison asked, straightforward.

“Yes,” Emily whispered and Ali pictured the other girl nodding, “Of course I feel the same way.”

“Okay then.” Alison took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and said, “Where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know,” Emily replied, sounding thoughtful, “We’ve already tried, didn’t we? And that didn’t exactly work out.”

Alison frowned. “Because you and I didn’t trust each other enough to start a relationship,” she said, “If we dated back then, we would’ve been a mess.”

“We _are_ a mess,” Emily pointed out, “We’ve been a mess ever since you ended up buried in your backyard. I think, if we had dated back then, I would’ve grown to trust you and maybe—if I loved you hard enough—maybe I wouldn’t have left Rosewood in the first place.”

“Your maybes are very soothing to hear, Em,” Alison murmured, smiling to herself, “and trust me on this one, I don’t think you would’ve stuck around for that.”

“I loved you, Alison.” There was a pregnant pause. “I would stick around.”

Alison loved it when Emily talked like this, when there was no hesitation but only a certainty in the tone in which her confessions spilled out. Sometimes, on days when Alison felt the shittiest and would crawl into bed with the blankets all bunched up around her, Emily would curl up next to her and whisper things that she knew would calm Ali down, like their honeymoon spent in Paris and the time Estella took her first steps. Happy things. Good things. They didn’t do that anymore, because Emily was so busy in her job and Alison just kept burying herself in work.

How come Alison didn’t notice her marriage falling apart right in front of her eyes?

She thought back to the past few months, Emily coming home from work exhausted and stressed out. Estella would always be asleep by then. Ali would be in their bedroom, checking papers and recording grades. Maybe the months of silence had been too much—like a bomb just itching to explode. Tonight, it had. And the aftermath was enormous.

She had to _fix_ it. Maybe talking to the Emily from the past would help her fix everything, give her some insight on how to piece together the cracks that had appeared in her marriage.

“Ali, are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Alison affirmed, feeling as if she had gone to purgatory at some point during their conversation.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” she whispered quietly, “I’m not okay. That’s why I—I just need to hear your voice. Keep talking.”

Emily did. “When I first saw you and Rollins together, I thought you looked really happy. And let me tell you this, he was a really good actor. I mean, he looked at you like you put the stars in the night sky,” she said and sighed, the soft sound sending chills down Ali’s spine. “And I thought that nothing was wrong,” she continued, “because you made him happy and of course, Alison DiLaurentis always knows how to make anybody happy. I let it go, I let _you_ go—five years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life by walking away when I did and I wish I could take it back, if it meant not having him in your life.”

Alison bit on her lower lip. “You don’t have to make the same mistake,” she whispered quietly.

In response, Emily laughed. “It’s the middle of the night, Alison,” she said, “I just can’t pack up, leave California and kiss you in front of your students.”

“Keep talking if you’re thinking of doing just that.” Alison rubbed her eyes, willed the sleep out of them and hugged her knees against her chest. She kept the phone close to her ear, steadied her breathing and said, “Please. I just miss your voice. I…miss you.”

“I knew that something was wrong,” Emily continued carefully, as if she knew she was dredging a past that could easily set Alison off and since they were states apart, she could do nothing about it, “but you just looked so happy. I—I ignored my gut feeling. Rollins was a sick psycho and I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you from him.”

“Do you remember what I told you?” Ali cut in gently, “When I was at Welby?”

There was a softness in Emily’s voice that melted Alison’s insides when she replied, “You told me that we were going to miss our flight.”

That had been such a horrible nightmare. The thought of letting Emily slip through her fingers had set Alison off to painful, heart wrenching sobs that night. That had been the worst out of all the nightmares Rollins planted in her head.

“And you assured me that we’ll take the next one,” Alison murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.”

Alison didn’t say anything else. She had a feeling Emily knew.

“I should probably go,” Emily told her quietly.

Panic gripped her heart. She had no idea if she’d still be able to reach _this_ Emily Fields if they stopped talking. The thought of not being able to listen to her voice amidst the crisis she was facing made her feel as if she was being suffocated all over again, her mother pouring shovel after shovel upon her. She wanted to tell Emily to stay, to talk to her, to _love_ her all over again because she had a terrible, distraught feeling that the present Emily no longer loved her the way the old Emily used to.

“Wait—” she called out, her voice cracking, “Em, please.”

There was silence. Alison heard the other girl shifting the phone.

“What is it, Ali?”

“I love you,” she spilled out, remembering the moment when they had discovered that Rollins was behind it all; Alison had thrown her arms around Emily’s neck and whispered _I love you I love you I love you_ against the skin of her pulse. She had been terrified, shaken and absolutely crushed but the warmth of Emily’s body had given her some peace, had reminded her that there were some people who loved her to the moon and back.

“I love you too,” Emily responded, sounding confused.

“I feel like I haven’t said it enough,” Ali confessed, closing her eyes and rocking back and forth, realizing that this was another factor to their argument earlier. They had been fighting about moving out of Rosewood, forcing Emily to take another job, questioning Alison’s salary, trying to decide where to put Estella here and there, Emily telling her that they could handle everything and Alison spitting that what they had just wasn’t enough for her.

( _“What we have isn’t enough for me or Estella,” Alison had yelled, “You’re not doing enough!”)_

Those were the words that made Emily take Estella away and leave. Those were the words that Emily last heard before she left. Those were the words that Alison regretted the minute they were out of her mouth. Emily had been beating herself up with work and everything had completely blown over.

God, this was so messed up. She had ruined everything—her wife’s faith in her, her daughter’s admiration towards her, the entire foundation of her marriage—she had ruined everything by letting her anger and frustration get the best of her.

“Alison,” Emily said clearly, no hesitation or uncertainty in her tone, “No matter what you say or do, I know that you love me. Just don’t forget that I love you too.”

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” Alison pointed out, realized that she was crying and tried to sniff away her tears, “but what happens when the time comes where you realize that you don’t love me anymore?”

Maybe Emily didn’t love her anymore. She left, didn’t she? She left and took away their daughter without a peep of where they were going or who they were going to stay with. It wasn’t enough for her too. Alison’s words had driven her over the edge and the blonde couldn’t exactly blame her wife for leaving when it was her fault in the first place.

“That won’t happen,” Emily assured her, “That day will never come.”

 _But it’s already here_ , Alison wanted to say, _I’m sitting here alone in the porch of our house and you’ve taken our daughter out of her room and driven away. You’re not here anymore. You don’t love me anymore. I wasn’t enough for you to stay._

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, wondering if Emily was getting tired of her asking.

That didn’t seem to be the case. “Because you’re it for me, Ali,” the girl said on the other line, so sure of her answer even from states away. “There’s no other person out there that I will love half as much as I love you.”

“What if we’re fighting?” Alison urgently asked, her tone rising in volume, panic and fear taking a hold of her throat and choking her. This was the reality of her situation—Emily _left_. “What if you leave in the middle of the night and never come back? What if I— _oh God_ —what if I tell you that this isn’t enough for me, even though I’m only saying it out of frustration? What if you believe me? What if you drive away into the night and not tell me where you’re going? What happens _then_?”

 _What happens_ now _?_ Alison wanted to ask.

Emily didn’t seem to think her question was out of the line. Instead, she said, “Ali, _breathe_. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Alison took ten deep breaths, a trick Emily had taught her to stay calm when the panic attacks came out of nowhere. Her fingers were shaking and she had difficulty managing the phone in her palm. A thin sheet of sweat covered her forehead; she wiped them off with the back of her hand.

Then Emily was talking, her voice soft, gentle and sweet. Ali found herself being soothed by it. “I am not going to leave you,” she said with the utmost clarity, “I can’t promise that I won’t get mad or hurt by you because we both know that it’s a lie but I will never leave you because of that. I’ve spent years loving you in silence, Alison, and I’m not just going to pack up my bags because some things are being said out loud.”

Those words of comfort and reassurance washed over Alison like a wave. She stopped shaking, even though her throat was dry and her eyes still stung with her tears. God, she was so pathetic.

“If you did leave,” she inquired carefully, “where would you go?”

“Probably to my mom’s or Hanna’s,” Emily answered with a thoughtful tone, “I guess I _might_ need some maternal advice or some of that Marin humor on how to survive a relationship.”

“Or marriage,” Ali said without thinking.

Emily laughed softly, like the thought of marriage was something she hadn’t really thought of. Ali found herself looking down at her ring, the ring Emily had spent months looking for in all the shops around New York, the ring she had popped open with one knee on the ground.

“Marriage.” Emily let the word roll around in her tongue. “That sounds nice.”

“It might happen,” Alison whispered, already recalling their wedding; their friends’ proud and happy grins, Pam popping open a champagne, Emily smearing icing all over Ali’s nose, Alison kissing her senseless during their dance. It had been one of the happiest moments in her life.

“A spring wedding,” Emily added and she sounded like she was smiling, “with all of our closest friends and families. It sounds like a fantasy.”

“It’ll be real,” Alison told her.

“How can you be so sure?”

 _Because it already happened._ “Because you’re it for me too, Em.”

“We’re not even dating yet.”

“We will be.” _We’ll date for two years, even though we’ve been in love with each other for nearly a decade now._

“And what happens next, O Mighty Seer?” Emily asked jokingly, even though there seemed to be a layer of a real question in her tone.

“We’ll get married in the spring,” Alison told her, remembering everything, “You and I will be walking down the aisle, Pam between us. She’ll be the one to give us away. The girls will be our three Maids-of-Honor because we honestly couldn’t choose just one. Hanna’s daughter will be the flower girl, even though someone has to carry the little two-year-old. Spencer will have tears in her eyes while Aria’s wiping at her own with a dozen tissues. When we’re in front of the ordained priest, you’ll tell me everything you just told me now, that you’ll love me so much that it’ll heal everything that’s happened between us. And I’ll tell you that what we’ll have two years from now—it’s more than enough, it’s _everything_.”

Alison could tell that Emily was hanging onto every word. When the silence came between them, Emily cleared her throat and asked, with a voice that sounded close to tears, “and then what happens next?”

The wedding was so clear in her mind’s eye. Alison felt as if she was telling a story that was already written in ink, like the past that had happened to her will be the given future for the girl listening on the other end of the line. “The reception will be perfect, like everything else,” she continued, “We’ll take turns dancing with our friends and family members. You’ll smear icing all over my face and I’ll kiss you when we’re having our fourth dance of the night. It’s magical, it’s something out of a fantasy and it will be _real_.”

She stopped talking. Emily was still on the other end, she knew.

“And then,” Alison whispered, her voice hushed as she delivered the next words with utmost precision, “we’ll have our first daughter. It’ll be your eggs but I’ll deliver them. Her name will be Estella Hope DiLaurentis-Fields and she’ll be the most beautiful child in the whole world.”

“Estella,” Emily echoed, laughing tearfully, “It’s a beautiful name.”

 _You picked it_ , Ali almost said. 

“And we’ll live happily ever after,” the blonde ended, “because you’re always big on happy endings.”

Silence again. Ali felt as if she had bared her entire soul to Emily in a single phone call and she couldn’t be more relieved at how good it felt. She hung her head and waited for Emily’s response, her heart thundering loudly inside her ribcage. Her entire body buzzed with content.

“I love you,” Emily told her in the dead of night, on May 8th, 2027 at nearly five in the morning. It told her everything Ali needed to hear and there was only one answer.

“I love you too,” Alison responded.

“And, Alison, just—just wait for me, okay? We’ll get there.”

“I know we will.”

There was a few minutes left until 5 AM. Alison’s fingers were frozen and her eyes were still stinging with the residue of her tears. She sniffed once and then twice. Emily was silent on the other end, presumably listening to her breathe, the same way Ali was.

“You should get back to studying,” Alison told her quietly, “I’ve taken away your time.”

“Not enough of my time,” Emily murmured but she conceded. “Okay. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

Alison’s throat tightened. If she didn’t fix her mistake, then there’d be no call to look forward to. Besides, how could Emily from ten years ago call her again? They weren’t even in the same time. They were ten years apart. She felt as if the night was just some delusion God had shoved her into so that she could realize just how much of a jackass she was.

Well, it worked.

“Okay,” Alison told 2017 Emily, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, Ali.”

“Bye, Em.”

After two hours on the line, Emily finally hung up. Alison put down her phone, stared at the clock on the screen (it was 4:59 AM) and got up from the porch. She went back inside to the living room, nearly broke down at the sight of Estella still in the picture frame and crawled into the couch to sleep, because she couldn’t bear going to bed without Emily by her side.

 

* * *

 

**[May 10, 2017; 2:43 PM]**

_This is crazy,_ Emily thought to herself glumly, her hands on the wheels of her car. Her knuckles were white, her nails biting into the flesh of her palm. She was sitting in the driveway in front of Rosewood High, where Alison was surely inside, probably grading papers or teaching to a room full of students. Alison, who had no idea what she was going to do next.

“This is crazy,” she said out loud, pounding her forehead against the wheel and sighing in frustration.

The thing was, Emily was _positive_ Alison had called her two nights ago. They had a heartfelt conversation, full of things they couldn’t say to each other’s faces. Ali had told her she loved her—that she was everything she could’ve possibly wanted and that she already had a picture of their future in her mind’s eye. Emily had been overwhelmed with such a confession and she had booked the earliest flight straight out of California to Pennsylvania that very night.

There was one problem, though. When Emily woke up to the next morning, her call log indicated that nobody had contacted her in the middle of the night, much less Alison. Because of that, she’d gone crazy thinking that the whole night was one huge mess—a delusion, on her part. Maybe the coffee had something mixed in it. Or maybe she had been missing Alison so much she imagined the whole thing. God, everything was so _fucked_ up.

She had flown in immediately the next day, after settling some of her affairs. Sure, the whole thing could’ve been a fluke on her part but she just—she _couldn’t_ let go of everything Ali had told her that night, even though the evidence basically screamed that she never said anything in the first place. Her phone must’ve been cleared its own logs or something but Alison hadn’t done anything to contact her either. What kind of person who basically confessed everything on phone not contact her the next day? Emily was going mad just trying to think of answers she didn’t even know the questions to.

She had wanted to ask Alison on the phone but was afraid of the answer. Instead, she had flown all the way here from California because there was no way in hell was she going to miss her chance. There was no way in hell she was going to let Alison slip through her fingers, like the first and second time. This was her third chance—she needed to make the best of it.

 _“It’s more than enough—it’s everything_. _”_

Emily let go of the wheel and rubbed her eyes. Okay. She needed to do this. She needed to walk into that room. She needed to tell Alison how she felt—face-to-face. Before she left the car, she checked her phone one last time, saw that Ali hadn’t called or texted and that the call log remained empty as ever, and threw it back down into the seat. Then she zipped up her hoodie, knowing that she looked absolutely thrashed, but not caring either way. She hadn’t gotten that much sleep for the past nights.

Walking through the hallways of Rosewood High, Emily felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. These were the very same hallways in which she had grown up in. She remembered Aria hiding behind books and lockers while glancing subtly at Noel Khan, Hanna and Mona chatting nonstop about clothes and jewelries, Spencer speaking to older students and teachers about grades and whatnot, Alison in the middle of it all, every eye fixed on her as she laughed and giggled with Emily about the little things.

She passed by empty classrooms, her feet heading straight towards Mr. Fitz’s old classroom, like destiny was pulling her in. She caught a flash of blonde at the teacher’s desk and her heart nearly collapsed on itself inside her chest.

Alison was sitting down, her head hung low over her papers as her pen worked furiously. Her hair was still perfect as ever, curls cascading down her back like the waterfalls Emily always ached to swim through. She was wearing a floral dress which showed off her curves and reached her knees. She looked beautiful, almost ethereal with the way the light was resting on her features. But her eyes were full of sadness and her lips weren’t curled into a smile. She worked with a frown on her face and a crease between her eyebrows.

This— _the person who had caused her so much pain and agony ever since they were children_ —was the person Emily Fields had loved over and over again for the past ten years. And here she was, finally at the tip of her fingertips. 

She was about to call out her name (but she had no idea what to say) when Ali looked up, blue eyes locking with hers immediately. Shock was plain on her features, along with a mixture of confusion and awe.

(That was the moment Emily decided the entire phone call was a delusion.)

But she was here—an unknown force had brought them back together again for a reason and she was not going to miss her chance anymore.

Alison made to stand up, her lips forming Emily’s name, and Emily rushed forward, unable to hold back anymore. Her thoughts ran as her feet moved. Words popped up in her throat but refused to leave her tongue. She wanted to say so many things, things that had been building up in her chest for a long, long time. _Alison, this—this is enough. You are so enough. You are more than enough. You are everything to me. I love you. I love you. I love you._

Instead, Emily kissed her. She brought up her hands, held Ali’s cheeks, glanced at her wide eyes and connected their lips. They were still at first, relishing the moment. Emily’s heart grew warm.

Ali’s mouth had gotten softer these past few years and she kissed with a gentleness that was almost unlike her fourteen-year-old self but not entirely unwelcome. The blonde reached out, gripped Emily’s elbow and held her close. Her tongue was a soft caress against Emily’s and she smelled of vanilla perfume and ink smeared across paper. Emily kept her eyes closed, her hand moving to cup Ali’s neck, bringing them closer, defying any obstacle that had been wedged between them for so long. Strangely enough, her fingers were still, like being in Alison’s presence had calmed them down from any panic attack whatsoever. They kissed, and kissed, until it felt like a small eternity had passed before they finally pulled away.

Emily leaned her forehead against Ali’s, inhaled deeply and whispered, “I’m here.”

 

* * *

 

 

**[May 10, 2027; 6:54 PM]**

Alison was sitting inside her car at front of the Fields property in Texas two days after the strange phone call with Emily. Or, the past Emily who was in 2017, while Ali was in 2027. Okay, she needed to stop thinking about that if she wanted a clear headache day. She still wasn’t able to wrap her mind around it.

When she woke up the next day, she had booked a flight straight to this part of the country, after calling to see if Emily was staying by Hanna’s place. She wasn’t. Hanna had told her that her wife and daughter hadn’t even stopped by, which worried Alison endlessly. She crossed out California in her list of where Emily could be hiding, because there wasn’t anything left for Emily there, except for college and Paige. Which left Texas.

 _Of course_ they’d be in Texas. They had a house up there, after Emily sold the Fields house back in Rosewood. Pam had permanently moved into the state after her daughter got married. Alison felt kind of stupid for not thinking about it more. Maybe she really hadn’t been paying much attention to her family. God, she seriously needed to fix the bridge that had between her and Emily, a bridge she hadn’t noticed was falling apart.

When she had woken up the next day after the phone call, her call log had been empty. Apparently, she hadn’t called anybody in the middle of the night. Which meant that the whole thing might’ve been a dream or an illusion. Whatever. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Alison knew her mistake and she was going to be damned if she let this mistake fall through the rest of her life.

She twisted the ring around her finger one more time, remembering Emily’s words at the back of her head, the certainty and clarity in her tone: _I am not going to leave you_.

“Now’s your chance to prove it, Em,” Ali muttered out loud, getting out of the car and heading towards the front porch.

As she approached, Alison admired the house. It was full of wonderful memories; moments spent wrapped around Emily’s arm on the steps, remarkable firsts where Estella had said her first word or walked for the first time, times where they felt like a family with Pam cuddling Estella in the background and Emily kissing Alison’s neck.

She _couldn’t_ lose that. Not her love. Not her family.

She stood outside the front door, clad in a simple blouse with fitting jeans. Her hair was pulled in a bun behind her head and she knew that she looked awful, devoid of make-up or any sleep for that matter. Her eyes were puffy and she was pretty sure she was going to start crying once she sees her wife and daughter again. The past few days had been such a mess and she felt as if she was tangled with past lies and confessions that never saw the light of day.

Her hand moved up to knock once, twice on the door. The house was quiet but she could hear footsteps inside. She ached to hear Emily’s voice or Estella’s quiet giggles but heard none. She waited and waited, her heart just bursting out of her ribcage. Finally, after a small forever, Pam finally opened the door.

“Alison!” Pam said, clearly surprised but not entirely too displeased.

“Hi, Pam,” Ali greeted, trying for a smile. She must’ve failed because Pam gave her a sad look.

“Emily and Estella arrived here yesterday,” the older woman told her, “I’m assuming that you had an argument? Emily was never the type of person to yell at her loved ones. She’s always the one leaving.”

Alison felt a laugh bubbling out of her chest. She didn’t have anything else to say so she reached forward and embraced her mother-in-law, felt an old pang in her chest at the reminder that this was her only parent left and buried her cheek against Pam’s shoulder.

“It was my fault,” she murmured.

“It’s okay, dear,” Pam said, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly, “You’re here now.”

Alison remembered May 10, 2017—Emily appearing in her classroom out of nowhere, rushing forward and kissing her and telling her that she was here now.

It was funny how everything came to a full circle.

“They’re upstairs,” Pam said, letting her go.

Alison wiped a few wayward tears and smiled at her mother-in-law. She went upstairs, every step like a knife that stabbed her heart. She feared that she was too late, that what she said was too much for Emily to take, that Alison crawling back and begging on her knees wouldn’t be _enough_.

There were four rooms upstairs. Estella usually stayed in Emily’s old room while she and Emily stayed in the guest bedroom whenever they stopped by for a visit. She heard voices to her left and her feet moved to the same direction that led straight to the room Estella always stayed in. Her heart was a mess inside her chest but she took a deep breath once she was directly outside of it. She was going to make it right.

Without knocking on the door, she twisted the knob and pushed it open. Conversation inside stopped. Alison looked up from the ground and nearly cried out in relief. Emily was sitting on the foot of her old bed while Estella was resting on the mattress, her blankets all bunched up around her. They looked like a mess too; Emily’s hair was tied in a ponytail that looked like it had been tied with shaky hands and Estella’s brown eyes were red rimmed around the edges.

Alison’s heart dropped to her stomach. She did _this_.

“Mommy?” Estella called out, her voice rising a pitch higher. Emily was frozen, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Hi, Ella,” Alison said, smiling tightly. She was about to step inside when her daughter practically leapt out of her bed and raced towards her. Short arms wrapped around her waist in a suffocating embrace and Alison nearly lost her balance. Estella’s height reached her chest area and as Alison’s eyes locked with Emily’s from across the room, she put her hand on her daughter’s crown and kissed her forehead.

“I’m here, baby,” Ali whispered, kneeling down so she could hug her daughter properly. Estella’s arms wrapped around her neck this time and it took Ali a second to realize that they were both crying. “I’m sorry,” Alison cooed, rubbing Estella’s back comfortingly, “I’m here now. Don’t worry, I’m not going to push you away anymore.”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Estella murmured in her sweet voice. She was choking in her own tears. It reminded Alison of fourteen-year-old Emily Fields. “Your fight was ­ _so_ big this time. Mama looked so sad. I thought—I thought you were going to get a—a—a _divorce_ , like in the movies.”

“I’m here now,” Ali repeated, burying her face against her daughter’s shoulder, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Emily had stood up amidst their little reunion. Her jaw was tense but her eyes were soft. Alison stared at her over Estella’s shoulder and knew that it would take a little more time for her wife to forgive her.

Alison gave Ella one last squeeze before letting her go. She whispered into her ear that she needed to talk to Mama and after Ella gave them both a worried look, the eight-year-old dashed downstairs to go to Grandma Pam.

There was a short, tense silence. Alison looked nervously at Emily’s locked jaw and was about to say something when the other woman beat her to it.

“You’re here,” Emily said, her voice remarkably softer than Ali expected.

“I’m here,” Ali agreed. Then, before Emily could ruin the whole speech she had planned in her head, she continued, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. You and Estella—you’re not _just_ enough, you are everything to me. I was being such an asshole and I just want you to know that you’re the love of my life, Emily, and what we have right now—I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

There were tears sparkling in Emily’s eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Alison’s hands were shaking as she reached forward and wiped her wife’s tears away for her.

“I thought that—” Emily began, sighing loudly and shaking her head, “I thought that you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t come.”

“I’m here,” Alison whispered, wrapping her arms around Emily’s neck. Emily’s defenses dropped and she gripped her wife’s shoulders like it was the only thing keeping her together. “I’m here and I love you.”

Emily sniffed as she buried her face against the crook of Alison’s neck. Alison was freely crying now, not caring if her tears were soaking Emily’s shirt. They held each other like that for a long, long time and Ali just kept whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you” over Emily’s pulse point.

They finally pulled away. Ali’s heart felt like it had been healed of any past heartbreak and complete agony. She smiled at the look of pure relief in Emily’s face as she leaned forward to kiss her.

The family she had in her hands—it took her a long, long time to get it. And once Emily and Estella were hers once more, she was sure she was never going to let them leave again.

They were it for her.

* * *

 

_fin._


End file.
